


our love's a monster with two heads and one heartbeat

by Yevynaea



Category: Forever (TV), Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Adam is Hermann, Canon Disabled Character, Crossover, Empathy, Immortality, M/M, Memories, Mind Meld, Misunderstandings, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Open Marriage, Past Violence, Post-Canon, The Drift (Pacific Rim), Unhealthy Relationships, bc i fucked with the timelines, memory sharing, otherwise canon compliant though, that's it that's the whole fic, this is self-indulgent and not my best work lmao but u get to have it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 19:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10860300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yevynaea/pseuds/Yevynaea
Summary: “I'm sorry, have we met?” Henry asks, looking both uncomfortable and confused as he approaches. Newt hesitates. He remembers a gun, a dagger, a needle, a hospital, cold water, blood dripping over his hand, a careful brush of lips against knuckles, pain, and hurt… but they're all flashes, incomplete images, glimpses through a fast-moving train window at someone else's life.“Oh, sorry. I guess not,” Newt answers, wincing at the oncoming headache he's beginning to feel. “Those aren't my memories.”





	our love's a monster with two heads and one heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> ok yeah so i changed 1. the timeline of pacific rim by like 3-5 years maybe just so the first kaiju attacks don't overlap w/ forever canon, and 2. the scene where newt and hermann drift bc there are some hermann-as-a-kid memories in the montage, but otherwise this should be canon-compliant..... technically.

When they drift with the dead newborn kaiju, it’s painful and blinding-bright, and Newt sees split-second images, memories of Hermann’s life, but they’re all recent, only a few years more than Newt’s known him for, maybe, because Hermann looks the same in all of them. All Newt’s knowledge of the drift says he should see Hermann’s whole life, or at least pieces of it, but there’s nothing else, nothing more-- and then there is, but it’s not from Hermann.

 

❦ ❦ ❦

 

When they drift, it’s painful and blinding-bright, and Hermann sees Newton’s whole life thus far, or, at least, flashes and glimpses of it. A short mortal life condensed into an infinitely shorter moment, and he doesn’t just see it, he  _ feels  _ it, the deep emotion that Newt feels, that Hermann hasn’t really felt for centuries. He’s still reeling from it when the images change from Newt’s life to the kaiju’s.

 

❦ ❦ ❦

 

Newt sees the man standing in the doorway of the lab, idling nervously, a visitor’s pass hanging around his neck, and he feels a rush of--  _ something,  _ some emotion,  _ annoyance pride affection hatred intrigue fear anger.  _ Whatever the emotion is, Newt doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

“Henry,” he says aloud when the name finds itself on his tongue, at a higher volume than he’d intended, because the man’s eyes find him, and then Henry is walking over while Newt stands with a tank of sliced-up kaiju brain in his arms, still half-listening to the mostly-dead pulse of its hive-mind-y thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm sorry, have we met?” Henry asks, looking both uncomfortable and confused as he approaches, and sending the tank more than a few nervous glances. Newt hesitates. He remembers a gun, a dagger,  _ we're the same,  _ a needle, a hospital, cold water,  _ you have nothing I want,  _ a book,  _ don't be so sure,  _ blood dripping over his hand,  _ come with me,  _ a careful brush of lips against knuckles,  _ I can’t,  _ pain, and hurt,  _ we’re not the same, we will never be the same _ … but they're all flashes, incomplete images, glimpses through a fast-moving train window at someone else's life.

“Oh, sorry. I guess not,” Newt answers, wincing at the oncoming headache he's beginning to feel. “Those aren't my memories.”

Henry still looks very uncomfortable and confused.  _ Good,  _ Newt thinks, a little viciously. He hears Henry’s voice,  _ I’m not a killer... _ a needle in his neck and only getting so far before he collapses... _ I’m a doctor.  _ He sees a hospital room,  _ can’t move can’t leave can’t die--  _ and Henry, leaning over him, smiling like nothing is wrong. Newt knows very certainly that these are Hermann’s memories-- he’s seen bits of them before, in dreams and between blinks. Newt knows that these are Hermann’s memories, more-or-less recent, snagged between them by the drift and fluttering just outside his line of sight. Newt knows that these are Hermann’s memories, and Newt knows that he  _ does not like _ the man standing in front of him.

He puts the tank down on the table between them with a little more force than he probably should, but Henry’s nearly-imperceptible flinch is too satisfying for Newt to care.

 

❦ ❦ ❦

 

Hermann Gottlieb  _ was _ having a perfectly good day. With the breach closed, the Shatterdome’s only remaining purpose has become research, cleanup-- tying up loose ends, so to speak, and Hermann is fine with that; it’s nearly time for him to move on anyway. He’s also fine with the media attention that saving the world brought him, because at least the spotlight was also on every other person who helped close the breach. Hermann’s even managed to convince himself to be fine with being somewhat mentally connected with Newton Geiszler and the echoes of an alien hivemind, a side effect of their unorthodox drift.

What he is very much _not_ fine with is Doctor Henry Morgan _standing in his lab,_ talking to Newton, when Hermann comes back from the cafeteria. He holds his leftover dinner roll between both hands, tearing it slowly in half.

“What are you doing here, Henry?” He asks, once he’s close enough to the pair. He keeps the accent he’s adopted recently, but lets his voice get lower than it usually is, adding a little more of what Henry remembers back into the mix.

“I saw your picture in the news,” Henry replies, turning away from Newt. “Doctor Gottlieb, was it?”

“I’d still answer to Adam Morgan,” Hermann gives a thin smile. Henry adopts a familiar expression, one that says clearly  _ I’m not going to say anything that might mean giving up the moral high ground.  _ Hermann sighs, and he’s vaguely aware of Newt mirroring the sound; probably a subconscious action. “Henry--”

“I’m sorry,” Henry interrupts, and Hermann goes silent, knowing that to interrupt Henry now would be to never hear whatever’s coming next. “I know I hurt you, when you left, and I decided to stay with Jo and Abe-- and before that, in the subway. That’s not to say you were in the right, doing what you did, but I know I hurt you, and I wanted to apologize. I also know you’d never admit it; you’re too stuck on pretending you can’t feel anything anymore--”

“You did hurt me,” Hermann--  _ Adam--  _ can’t keep himself from speaking up. His accent shifts into the neutral one that Henry knows, that Newton does not. “Just like  _ I _ hurt  _ you _ . I was hurt, Henry, but I was also  _ proud _ .”

Henry’s face twists with disgust, regret, pain, and Adam gives him another smile, flat and cold. “You showed me that I was right; we’re the same, you and I.”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Henry says, turning away. His feet seem to freeze to the floor mid-step when Adam speaks again.

“Besides, you’re right too: it's not like I was really ever in the right, either.”

Henry doesn't reply, but Newt makes a small sound, sneakered feet scuffling against the floor, and Hermann slips back into himself, reminded suddenly of his lab-mate’s presence. He feels an echo of confusion, and protectiveness on  _ his  _ behalf, Hermann’s surprised to note, but it’s gone again before he can process it, skittering back to Newton’s head where it belongs.

“Newton, this is Doctor Henry Morgan,” he introduces belatedly. “My husband. Henry, this is Doctor Newton Geiszler, my partner.”

Hermann hopes  _ partner  _ is vague enough a term to hide the closeness developing between himself and Newton. He doesn’t need Henry’s goddamned  _ smugness  _ on top of everything else going on.

“Husband,” Newt echoes, eyebrows raising, eyes widening in disbelief. “As in,  _ currently  _ married. Not an ex.”

“Yes, Newton, that is generally what husband means,” Hermann grits out. He points accusingly at Henry. “I wasn’t expecting you to come looking for me for at least another decade. You could have at least texted, I know you’ve figured cell phones out by now.”

“Warn you before threatening your carefully crafted life, you mean?” Henry says, with much more sarcasm than Hermann appreciates. Hermann glares, then turns his back on Henry to fully face Newton.

“You don’t wear a wedding ring,” Newton says, glancing dubiously between Hermann and Henry.

“The conversation he just overheard and his priority is our marriage,” Henry mutters under his breath. Hermann ignores him completely.

“And the memories!” Newt continues. “I’ve  _ seen  _ you,” he points at Henry, righteous anger flooding across his features, “you put Hermann in the  _ hospital _ !”

So that was what the protectiveness was about. Hermann fights back a smirk at the shock on Henry’s face, as the younger immortal stammers to come up with something to say.

“I shot him, first,” Hermann supplies, cutting Henry a break considering that Henry came here to apologize for the incident in question. “Did I actually apologize for that part?”

“Twice, but I wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to again,” Henry replies.

“Twice is quite enough,” Hermann decides.

 

❦ ❦ ❦

 

Henry is very aware of Adam’s partner, Dr. Geiszler, glancing suspiciously at him every once and awhile from across the room. He’s also very aware of Adam-- _ Hermann’s--  _ limp, his cane, the way he winces when he steps wrong, the pill bottles on random tables around the lab. Henry is  _ also  _ very aware that it hasn’t been that long, relatively, since they got married so they’d have an easier time keeping legal track of each other, and less time since Henry let Adam leave, choosing to stay with Abe, with Jo, with his job and his life.

“You’ll only get hurt, Henry,” Adam said. “Time will not be kind to them.”

“All the more reason for me to be here,” Henry replied. Adam went silent, expression a familiar closed-off mask that, previously, hadn’t made an appearance for months.

“Fine,” he said, turning away. “You’ll find me when you’re ready.”

Adam left, and Henry didn’t follow.

And now here Henry is, standing in front of his husband again, and finding Doctor Hermann Gottlieb hard to reconcile with the man he knew before. Hermann, with his cane and sweater vest and glasses and haircut, is seemingly just as little _Adam_ as Lewis Farber was. Then again, Hermann, with his thin smile and gravely-serious eyes and the quiet anger he’d been projecting when he walked into the room, is very much like Adam.

“How much of this is real?” Henry can’t help but ask, gesturing vaguely at Hermann and the lab. He catches Hermann’s hasty glance over to Dr. Geiszler, but decides not to bring it up yet.

“Some,” Hermann answers vaguely. Then, a bit wryly, he adds, “I based this identity on you.”

 

❦ ❦ ❦

 

Hermann can’t help a small smile at the look of indignation on Henry’s face.

“It’s not an insult, Henry,” he says. “I needed to be…  _ likable _ , without having to continuously act significantly more kind or social than I am. Borrowing a few traits from you seemed the easiest way to do that.”

Henry scoffs, but his expression quickly softens into something pleased, almost smug. Hermann rolls his eyes.

“The limp?” Henry inquires, sobering.

“My recovery had constant witnesses, and I couldn’t afford to leave, so, I couldn’t fix it.” Hermann shrugs. He’s gotten used to his injury by now; it’s inconvenient, and much worse on some days than others, but it’s nothing he can’t handle until it’s time to shed his skin again.

“And Doctor Geiszler?” Henry asks, gaze moving to the man in question, and Hermann very purposefully does not bristle.

“My partner,” he repeats. Henry gives him a look. “My… friend.”

The word is heavy and unfamiliar on his tongue, but feels more true than he expected it to. Henry still looks dubious, though, so Hermann sighs, revises. “We drifted. We’re, still connected, I suppose.”

“You  _ drifted _ ?” Henry repeats, eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Yes, Henry, we drifted, do try to keep up,” Hermann snaps. “Drifting with a kaiju brain once was almost enough to kill Newton, he wouldn’t have survived the process a second time, so I volunteered to lighten the neural load.”

Henry shifts on his feet, hands curling repeatedly into fists at his sides in a nervous gesture. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, once, twice, thrice, four times, before his voice finally starts to work again.

“You drifted with a  _ mortal  _ and a  _ kaiju _ ,” he says, as if saying the words will make them more believable. Hermann sighs deeply.

“Yes,” he confirms. Henry nods, clearly still wrapping his head around it.

“You actually care for him,” Henry says next, and Hermann keeps his face carefully blank.

“The drift had some, repercussions,” he admits slowly, “I felt things the way Newton feels them, the way I suppose you still must--”

“You put yourself, this life, and our secret at risk, to save his life,” Henry interrupts, looking more and more smug by the second. “That’s not a ‘repercussion’ of anything.”

Hermann makes a sound of disdainful disgust, and turns away, focusing back on his work.

 

❦ ❦ ❦

 

Newt watches Henry and Hermann’s conversation, subtly, but he isn’t close enough to hear it. He only gets what facial expressions he can interpret, and an occasional ping of emotion from Hermann, each only there for a millisecond before fading away.

At one point, he feels a pinprick of something like  _ panic _ , and when he looks up, Hermann’s face is calm and cold, and Henry looks pleased, almost surprised. As Newt watches them, Henry gets more smug, and Hermann gets more quietly-frustrated, until he turns away from Henry completely. Newt watches them for a second more, but the conversation seems to have ended, and soon Henry is looking over, catching Newt’s eyes. Newt looks quickly away, trying to seem like he wasn’t spying.

_ Too late,  _ his brain supplies, unhelpfully, when Henry begins to head over.

“He cares about you,” Henry says, coming to stand right in front of Newt, looking him up and down like he’s some kind of puzzle or mystery or something. Newt bristles at the implications of that. Across the lab, Hermann looks up, apparently sensing Newt’s anger, but stays where he is.

“Is that so hard to believe?” Newt demands, and Henry grimaces.

“For him, yes,” he says. “Not that you aren’t-- I just mean--” Henry stops, gathering his words, and Newt waits. “It’s, difficult, for him to care.” Henry elaborates. “He’s been through too much for it to come naturally anymore. I’m surprised more with the situation as a whole than with  _ you _ , specifically.”

_ And how much of that ‘too much’ was your fault,  _ Newt wonders, but he doesn’t voice the thought.

“Oh,” he says instead. Part of him is preening at the thought that he managed to get past such defenses, that Hermann cares enough about him that Hermann’s  _ husband  _ thinks it’s noteworthy-- Newt’s current train of thought comes to a screeching halt. “Wait, you don’t think-- you know we’re not dating, right? He’s not cheating or--”

“No, certainly not,” Henry interrupts, grinning widely. Newt stops, feeling like maybe he’s missed something here. “Not to worry, Newton. My relationship with A-- with Hermann is not particularly monogamous.”

“Oh,” Newt says again. He’s not really sure what his emotions are doing at this point, but his brain is mostly static and he’s got at least one butterfly in his stomach, or maybe just a large moth, and whatever feeling that adds up to, Hermann must be feeling it too, if the small crash and subsequent loud cursing across the lab are any indication.


End file.
